


Effect and Cause

by tomatopudding



Series: Redux [7]
Category: Bones (TV), Life on Mars (UK), Torchwood
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Het and Slash, Slash, Slash Goggles, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-20
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 21:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A solved case suddenly turns very abnormal. Where have Emmy and Sweets disappeared to? Why has Torchwood invaded the Jeffersonian? How does a piece of paper appear in the skeleton after it has already been examined?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Effect

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: A few weeks after "The Children". (July 2010)  
> A/N: I swear I didn’t mean to make it crossover into Life on Mars, but the idea hit me and would not let go.

SECTION 6

Part 1: Effect

It was found in an alleyway by a police officer walking his beat in downtown Washington DC one summer evening. The very next day, Emilié “Emmy” Harkness-Jones and Seeley Booth were called in to the scene.

‘Poor cop who found it nearly had a heart attack,’ Booth was saying as they pulled up to the alley.

‘So did I, first time I saw one,’ Emmy admitted to her mentor.

They stepped out of the car and approached the police line. Booth flashed his FBI badge to the cop keeping watch.

‘Special Agents Booth and Harkness-Jones.’

Emmy wasn’t technically an agent yet. This was only her third week with the FBI and she would be a probationary agent for at least another five and a half to six months. Although, announcing herself as almost-Agent Harkness-Jones was not as impressive.

‘Where’s Temperance?’ Emmy asked as they ducked under the yellow plastic police line.

She was referring to Temperance Brennan, the forensic anthropologist she and Booth worked with.

‘On the way,’ Booth told her, hitching his trousers and crouching next to the skeleton.

Emmy looked down at the prone form and the skull grinned back up at her. Unlike a lot of the skeletons and bodies they were called in for, this one was completely intact, laid out flat with arms at its sides exactly the way bodies were placed on the examination table. It was as if this poor victim had been put here for them. Emmy was pulled out of her thoughts by the flash of a camera. Brennan had arrived, her assistant Zack taking photos of the scene, as was procedure. The two exchanged quick smiles before Emmy stepped back to allow Zack better access.

Ever since Emmy had arrived in Washington from Cardiff, Wales, she and Zack had bonded. Zack had a huge love of all things science fiction and Emmy was originally from the 51st century, which led to some interesting conversations about future technology. Not that Zack, or anyone at the Jeffersonian other than Booth and Brennan, knew that she was from the future. The only reason that the FBI agent and anthropologist knew was because the latter had briefly been involved with Torchwood, a not-so-secret British alien-fighting organization that Emmy’s fathers worked for.

Without warning, the strap Emmy wore on her wrist gave a short beep.

In the 51st century, Emmy had been part of an organization called the Time Agency, who were sort of like time police with a lot more corruption than a normal police precinct. As a Time Agent, Emmy had received the wrist strap which functioned as a vortex manipulator, allowing the person wearing it to travel through time and space. When she had traveled back from 51st century Raxacoricofallapatorius to 21st century Earth without stops, the manipulator’s time circuits had shorted out, leaving it capable of only traveling through space and only for relatively short distances. This had allowed one Torchwood employee, Dr Owen Harper - affectionately called Uncle Owen by Emmy - to be saved from becoming nuclear sludge when he had been caught in a nuclear power plant during an unavoidable and unstoppable meltdown. The vortex manipulator beeping now was not a good sign.

Emmy flipped it open and read the information scrolling there with a frown. According to current readings, this area had a very low level of vortex energy. Vortex energy was only found where there were cracks, called rifts, in the time-space continuum. If there was a rift in Washington DC, then nothing good would come of it. Emmy had sudden visions of Torchwood 5 Washington.

‘Em.’

In one swift movement, Emmy recorded the coordinates of the area, clicked the wrist strap closed, and turned to face Booth.

‘Heading back to the Jeffersonian.’

With one final glance backwards where Brennan and Zack were making their final parts of their initial observations, Emmy followed Booth back to the black FBI car.

_________________

The skeleton was laid out exactly as it had been in the alley way, only this time it was on the metal examination table on the forensic platform of the Jeffersonian Institute’s Medico-Legal Lab. Along with Emmy, Booth, Brennan, and Zack, there were four other people on the forensic platform.

The first was an entomologist named Jack Hodgins. Hodgins had a bit of a crush on Emmy ever since she had first arrived, which Emmy blamed completely on her 51st century pheromones. As a Time Agent, she had been trained in the art of using these pheromones to attract friends and foes alike in order to get what she wanted. She had unintentionally released quite a large dose of pheromones when she had first met Hodgins and he had never fully escaped the effect, much to the chagrin of one of the other people standing on the forensic platform.

Angela Montenegro was a trained artist who also happened to have a degree in computer technology. Angela and Hodgins had had an on-again-off-again relationship through the years and Emmy was under the impression that they were currently in the off position. Emmy had mused a couple of times about why they could never stay together and had finally come to the conclusion that they were just too similar in mind to make it work. It was Emmy’s opinion that if Zack was to be added to the mix they would make the perfect triad. Of course, people in the 21st century were too locked up in labels that they couldn’t yet appreciate monogamous polygamy the way 51st century humans could.

Camille Saroyan was technically the boss, so Emmy hadn’t really worked with her all that closely. Emmy couldn’t help but trust the woman, however. She simply let out such an air of being calm, sexy, and in charge, the best combination of traits for the perfect Time Agent.

The final person standing on the forensic platform was someone Emmy had been spending a lot of time with. Lance Sweets was a psychiatrist with the FBI and, although everyone on the team was supposed to meet up with him regularly, Emmy was the only one who actually did. This had opened up a friendship between them that bordered on romantic. Then again, most Time Agent friendships bordered on the romantic, though they were usually purely physical. The first person Emmy had ever met at the Agency had ended up her bedmate despite the fact that they despised each other. Lance was the only person in DC besides Booth and Brennan who knew Emmy’s true identity. Lance was a good listener, which made perfect sense based on his profession.

‘Alright, squints,’ Booth said, clapping his hands together and using his nickname for the scientists, ‘Let’s hear it.’

‘It’s strange,’ Brennan told him, ‘Although the skeleton looks fairly new, there is some dental work from the fifties who’s wear show that this man died in the early to mid seventies.’

‘What about your dirt?’ Booth asked Hodgins, ‘Anything interesting?’

Hodgins rolled his eyes, not even bothering to correct Booth’s use of the word dirt.

‘Most of it is what you would expect from something that was in an alleyway, but there are flecks of concrete and lots of cigarette ash between the bones. There’s also some very distinct metal shavings that would put our victim somewhere in Northern England in the seventies, probably Manchester.’

Angela showed the reconstruction she had made of the victim’s face. He was in his thirties with a high forehead, then-bladed nose, and wide-set eyes. The skin was a olive tone that suggested Middle Eastern or Indian descent.

‘The question is,’ Brennan said with a frown, ‘How did he get in a DC alley?’

_________________

‘We need to make a stop,’ Emmy told Lance.

He lived near where Emmy’s flat was, so they often rode into work together. Today it was Lance’s turn to drive.

‘Where?’ the psychiatrist asked.

Emmy flipped open her wrist strap and pulled up the coordinates she had recorded earlier that day.

‘Turn left up here,’ she told her companion.

Technically, she could have used the vortex manipulator to get there, but it had been acting up lately. Besides, people in the 21st century didn’t have vortex manipulators and, since this was her home now, she should get used to not using it. Well, not using it as much. It didn’t help that her father, Jack, tried to use his own vortex manipulator as much as possible. Emmy directed Lance to the alley where the skeleton had been found. By now, the police had been all cleared away and the only indication that there might be something strange or different in the alley was the light, consistent beeping of Emmy’s wrist strap. The closer she got to the place where the body had been, the louder and more constant the beeping became.

‘There’s a small rip,’ Emmy murmured to herself.

Lance looked over her shoulder at the wrist strap, but couldn’t read anything in the swirling foreign script.

‘What?’

The psychiatrist had just grabbed Emmy’s wrist to pull her back to the car when she stepped directly onto the spot where the skeleton had been. There was a vary familiar tug in Emmy’s stomach, a sort of folding, pressing feeling. When the feeling subsided, they were still in an alley way, but it was quite obviously a different one than they had been in only moments before. Lance was clutching at his stomach.

‘What happened?’ he groaned.

Emmy didn’t answer, instead looking down at her vortex manipulator. She swore softly in her native tongue, a lilting language called Streeka that was standard in the 51st century. According to the message on the small screen, all travel functions were non-operational. As a result, she couldn’t see where and when they had ended up. Although she was armed - not only with her FBI weapon, but also a myriad of knives, small guns, and portable tools from her Time Agent days - but she always preferred to go into a situation with previous knowledge of the time period they were dealing with. Not knowing made Emmy feel naked, and not in the good way.

‘Emmy?’

‘Stick close, Lance,’ she told her companion, ‘No way of knowing where or when we are.’

Lance said nothing, but his nervousness showed as he swallowed and stepped closer to her. Emmy headed towards the exit of the alley way where she could see an empty street and the homes beyond it. They emerged into the open from between two large buildings that appeared to be factories. Emmy very quickly saw why the street had looked empty; they had just walked into a crime scene surrounded by uniformed police officers. Ignoring that for a moment, Emmy stopped in her tracks when she saw a certain face in the crowd.

‘Lance, does that man look familiar to you?’ she asked, pointing him out.

Sweets took one look at the man - high forehead, thin-bladed nose, wide-set eyes, olive skin, and a mass of black curls - and gaped.

‘That’s our victim.’

The cocking of a gun brought both of them back to the matter at hand. Lance’s hands immediately rose, Emmy following suit after only a brief hesitation. There were two men standing before them with serious expressions on their faces. The first had close-cropped light brown hair and unwavering gray eyes. He wore a leather jacked with winged lapels. The other man’s gaze was pale green, but just as fierce, and matched his shirt. He had longer hair that was somewhere between light brown and dirty blonde. Both men had guns leveled at Emmy and Lance.

‘Alright then,’ said the green-eyes man in a distinct North England accent, ‘Why are you and how the bloody hell did you get onto my crime scene?’

‘Lance,’ Emmy murmured, ‘I don’t think we’re in Washington anymore.’

Sweets simply nodded in agreement.


	2. Cause

Part 2: Cause

Emmy hadn’t shown up for work that day and Seeley Booth was getting slightly worried. Emmy was never late. He had asked around and discovered that Sweets hadn’t shown up either. Booth drove to the Jeffersonian with a frown on his face. He really hoped nothing had happened. Of course, he knew that Emmy, as a former Time Agent, could take care of herself, but he also knew that Jack Harkness would most likely kill him if anything happened to her. When he had first met the Captain, Booth never could have guessed how protective he would be. Now that he thought about it, he would probably also bear the brunt of Ianto Jones’s quiet but deadly wrath if anything happened to Emmy. If he was lucky, he’d _only_ get a Weevil in his closet.

When Booth arrived on the forensic platform, Brennan and the squints were already discussing the case.

‘This guy doesn’t exist,’ Angela was saying, an exasperated look on her face.

‘That is impossible,’ Zack told her with a frown.

‘Well, somehow it’s happened.’

Booth could tell that Angela was on the end of her rope. They must have been going at it for a while; Angela was very good at keeping her temper.

‘I ran his picture, dentals, and fingerprints through every single database I could think of,’ the artist continued, ‘Nothing. This man does not exist.’

‘Have any of you seen Emmy?’ Booth asked, interrupting the argument before it could escalate. 

‘She’s usually with you,’ Brennan said.

‘Both Emmy and Sweets are missing.’

‘That better not be my Emmy you’re talking about.’

Booth turned at the new but familiar voice. Captain Jack Harkness grinned back at him, eyes twinkling.

‘Ah,’ Booth said, ‘Well.’

‘Hello Jeffersonian,’ Jack announced to the room at large, ‘I’ll be taking over your lab today.’

___________________

DI Sam Tyler scrutinized the two people sitting across from him in the Lost and Found. From the moment he’d seen them step out of the alleyway, he could tell that they were out of place. Perhaps even out of time. He knew the feeling. It was now 1974, just over a year since he had arrived in the 70s and only a scant three and a half months since he’d had what he believed now to be a hallucination of being back in 2006.

In that time, Sam had settled into life in the 70s. He’d bought a flat, larger than his previous ramshackle place and slightly closer to work, even personalizing the place with new furniture and plenty of photographs. After the kiss, he and Annie had begun a tentative relationship. It had started out okay, but slowly deteriorated in the passing weeks. They just didn’t have enough in common to keep it up now that Sam was no longer hearing voices and needed to confide in someone about them.

Sam pulled his thoughts away from his failing relationship, focusing again on the young man and woman sitting there. The young man was dressed in a nice charcoal gray suit with a crisp white shirt and a slightly loosened red tie. He looked ill at ease, frightened, and the tiniest bit green around the gills. Unlike her companion, the young woman was completely cool and confident. She wore dark jeans and a purple button-down shirt with a fitted black vest that had thin silver pinstripes. She met his gaze squarely, totally unfazed.

Beside Sam, DCI Gene Hunt leaned forward, narrowing his eyes in a menacing sort of way. Personally, Sam didn’t think that there was any reason to be interrogating these newcomers. But Gene didn’t believe in coincidences and his gut said that they were involved in the murder somehow.

‘Who are you?’ Gene asked, strangely calm and non-violent in comparison to previous interrogations.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ the young woman said in a Welsh lilt, ‘who I am. We have nothing to do with your body or your investigation.’

‘We shouldn’t be here,’ the young man murmured, his accent identifying him as American, then he frowned,‘Where are we? _When_ are we?’

‘If I had to guess,’ the woman said, ‘I would say Manchester in the 70s.’

The two were now completely engrossed in each other, ignoring Sam and Gene. The man’s eyes widened, ‘Emmy, you can’t mean...’

The woman, Emmy apparently, nodded, ‘Now, Lance, don’t freak out.’

The man, Lance raised an eyebrow at her, ‘Don’t freak out? Based on the way you’re acting, you may be used to this kind of stuff, but I’m not.’

‘Oi,’ Gene barked, catching their attention, ‘What are you two on about?’

‘Look,’ Emmy said, Mr...’

‘Hunt,’ Gene supplied in a growl, ‘DCI.’

That must have been a hit to his ego Sam thought, Gene believed that everyone knew who he was and reveled in it.

‘Right, Hunt, there’s been a mishap. My friend and I,’ she gestured to her companion, ‘Should be in....well that doesn’t matter. We have our own issues to deal with so, if you don’t mind.’

She rose, pulling Lance up too. Gene shot to his feet and got in their way.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I wouldn’t try to stop me if I were you,’ Emmy said lowly, eyes flashing dangerously, getting into Gene’s personal space the same way he usually did to Sam, seeming larger in her ire despite the fact that she was a few inches shorter than the DCI.

‘Or what,’ Gene sneered, not backing down.

Emmy’s eyes narrowed, ‘I gave you a chance by asking nicely, which is more consideration than I would usually give in this situation. I will get physical if you give me a need to, but you won’t like it,’ her voice dropped to a dangerous tone close to a whisper, ‘I have done things to people that would give your nightmares nightmares.’

Sam had never seen Gene struck speechless the way he was now. The young woman’s voice had turned dark in a way that showed she was deadly serious. She kept her eyes on Gene’s for a long moment before stepping away and walking out of Lost and Found, muttering to Lance about Washington, something called a seeley, and 2010. Sam’s eyes widened and he rushed after them, ignoring Gene’s protest.

_________________

Jack Hodgins eyed the three newcomers shrewdly. There were two men and one woman. The man who had announced himself seemed to be in the lead. He had movie-star looks, from his blue eyes and dimples to his buff physique. His style of dress was old-fashion World War II air force, complete with coat. So, this was Brennan’s friend from Wales, although he had a Midwestern American accent.The second man did have a Welsh accent and was dressed in an impeccable suit and stood only slightly behind the leader, his face a picture of calm and collected. The woman, a light African-American with her hair in multiple braids and her voice a London drawl, had the look of someone who didn’t exactly know what they were doing, but who still pretended that they did.

‘Jack,’ Brennan said.

Hodgins looked at her, then realized that she was talking to Mr Movie Star. She gave him a welcoming embrace.

‘Jack, this is the team I was telling you about,’ Brennan continued, ‘You know Booth already, of course.’

Introductions went around. The leader was Captain Jack Harkness, the other man was Ianto Jones, and the woman was Lois Habiba. The two men were Emmy’s parents, Hodgins realized, but that couldn’t be. Ianto looked barely older than Emmy and Jack couldn’t be a day other than thirty-five. Yet, it was quite clear that Emmy inherited a few traits from Jack, not the least of which were those eyes. Not to mention the scent, or at least the taste in body spray. Hodgins moved closer to Zack protectively when the young man got a dazed look on his face after being offered a lascivious smirk and some bedroom eyes.

‘Jack,’ Ianto said with slight exasperation and a warning tone when this happened.

Jack had grinned and shrugged unapologetically. It reminded Hodgins of some interaction between Emmy and Booth.

‘We’ve had some changes since you were around,’ Jack told Brennan, ‘Gwen’s pregnant, three months along now.’

Brennan smiled, ‘I got her postcard.’

‘After the thing with the children,’ Jack continued, his handsome features darkening, ‘We decided to add some more people to the line-up.’

Hodgins remembered the thing with the children. Some theory about aliens and London, not that it was new accusation. Hodgins had gone onto LINDA’s website a few times and he knew about UNIT. The thing that stuck out the most for him, and the rest of them at the Jeffersonian, was when Emmy had come into work in a strangely sombre mood after there was news of an explosion near the Millennium Centre in Cardiff.

‘By we, he means me,’ Ianto confided dryly.

‘He can be very persuasive,’ Jack said in a tone that did nothing to hide his implications. Ianto simply rolled his eyes.

‘Lois here,’ Jack continued, ‘Was a big help to us at the time, so we brought her on. We also stole another person from the police force to fill in, especially since Gwen’s on light duty. A certain Mr Davidson, in fact.’

‘Rhys is also officially on call as backup,’ Ianto added, ‘He and Gwen might alternate days after the baby is born.’

‘We’re also looking for someone to help Owen out.’

Brennan frowned, ‘Why?’

‘Well, as you know, it’s pretty risky to send him out into the field in his...condition.’

Brennan and Booth nodded knowingly, although the rest of the Jeffersonian team was in the dark.

‘During the children thing, he sustained an injury,’ Jack told her, ‘Now I _really_ don’t want him out in the field. If we get someone to be field medic, then Owen can stay in the Hub.’

‘He can’t be happy with that,’ Brennan said with a laugh.

‘He’s looking forward to delegating,’ Jack replied with a grin.

‘Why are you here, Jack?’ the anthropologist asked, still smiling slightly.

‘Couple of reasons. Mostly to see if you’d like to come back to Torchwood.’

‘You’re Torchwood?’ Hodgins burst out.

Everybody’s attention snapped to the entomologist, who stared at Jack unabashedly.

‘You hunt aliens,’ Hodgins said bluntly, ‘You and UNIT.’

Angela rolled her eyes, ‘Don’t listen to Hodgins, he’s into conspiracy theories.’

‘The thing about theories,’ Jack told her, ‘Is that they’re based on true observations.’

‘What’s the other reason you’re here, Jack?’ Brennan asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Oh, yeah, that skeleton you’ve got? It’s practically oozing rift energy.’

_________________________

‘Hold on! Wait!’

The sound of a distinctly Northern voice caused Emmy to turn around. It was one of the detectives, the one with the leather jacket.

‘Yes?’ Emmy asked, raising an eyebrow.

He stopped in front of them, eyes flickering between Emmy and Lance.

‘You’re from the future?’ he asked in a rough whisper.

Emmy didn’t answer.

‘I’m from 2006,’ the detective confided.

Emmy caught his eyes, studying them the way she had learned in the Time Agency and sending out a minuscule mental probe. He was telling the truth. Or, at least, he believed that he was telling the truth. She glanced around them. They were being not-so-surreptitiously stared at by the people there, especially a particular brunette woman.

‘Do you have somewhere else we can go talk?’ Emmy asked him, ignoring the surprised noise from Lance.

‘My flat,’ the detective offered.

Emmy nodded, ‘Take us there.’

_____________________

‘There was a small tear in space-time that opened in an alley way near Bute Street,’ Jack explained.

‘That is where the skeleton was found,’ Zack piped up from where he was continuing to examine the bones. 

‘It’s no more than a scar now,’ Ianto put in, ‘We’ve already checked it out.’

‘I found something,’ Zack said suddenly, holding the skeleton’s mandible in his latex-gloved hand, ‘Angela, you said that you could not find a match for the victim’s dental records?’

‘Yeah,’ Angela confirmed.

‘I would suggest doing a search for near matches instead,’ Zack told here, ‘There is something in the bottom left molar that was carved in post-mortem.’

Angela nodded and left the room to go do it while Brennan frowned.

‘There was nothing there before,’ she said slowly, walking over to join her assistant.

‘So, Seeley,’ Jack said conversationally, ‘What was it you were saying about Emmy being missing?’

‘She didn’t show up for work,’ Booth told him.

‘Neither did Sweets,’ Hodgins added.

‘Emmy and Dr Sweets ride into work together,’ Brennan said, looking up, ‘It is unusual for them to be late for work, let alone miss it.’

‘They’ve been spending a lot of time together,’ Zack said absently, his attention still on the mandible he was holding.

Jack grinned widely, ‘That’s my girl.’

Ianto rolled his eyes at his husband, ‘Only you, cariad,’ he said, ‘Any other father would be more upset.’

Jack shrugged, ‘You’re the ones who live in the sexual dark ages. My father was thrilled the first time I played hooky with someone. What was his name...Justin. Oh, yeah,’ his eyes were distant for a brief moment, ‘And any way, most Time Agents lose the ability to get pregnant without treatments. Too much vortex energy.’

‘What’s a Time Agent?’ Hodgins asked.

Before Jack could answer, or refuse to answer, Angela returned brandishing a sheet of paper.

‘Found him.’

‘I was able to discern what was carved into the tooth,’ Zack announced almost as soon as Angel had finished speaking.

Zack handed Brennan the sketch he had made as Angela gave Booth the victim’s information.

‘Kareem Mohinder,’ he read, ‘Parents originally from Bengal, India, but moved to Manchester, England, in 1940. He was born in 1944 and disappeared in 1974 at the age of thirty. No investigation was conducted.

‘Emmy isn’t just missing work,’ Jack said seriously, looking at the symbol Zack had drawn. He looked up at them, ‘This isn’t just any marking, it’s Streeka.’

‘Streeka?’ Booth asked.

‘Standard language for the Human Empire,’ Jack explained, ‘It started being widely used in the 49th century. I grew up speaking it and so did Emmy.’

‘Wait, the 49th century?’ Hodgins asked with a frown, ‘Emmy is from the _future_?’

Jack ignored him, ‘She and her little boyfriend must be stuck in the past.’

‘What does it say?’ Brennan asked.

‘It’s two words,’ Jack told her, ‘The first one is pelvis.’

‘And the other?’

‘Help.’

__________________

Sam unlocked the door to his flat, leading Emmy and Lance into the living room. He was strangely nervous. In the months since his strange 2006 vision, Sam had given up any hope of actually returning. In fact, he was extremely happy with his life - relationship issues not withstanding. 

‘What’s your name?’ the young woman asked, standing there with her arms crossed to that Sam could see the strange thing strapped around her wrist.

‘Sam,’ the detective replied.

‘Sam,’ she repeated, ‘I’m Emmy and this is Lance. We’re Time Agents. Do you know what a Time Agent is, Sam?’

Sam shook his head.

‘We’re what you might call time police,’ Emmy told him, using the same lofty tone with a sharp and cruel edge that she used when interrogating criminals, whether with the Time Agency or the FBI, ‘We find people who are in the wrong time and place and take them back. Do you want to go back home, Sam?’

‘No,’ Same replied, not even realizing it was true until he said it.

This threw Emmy for a moment, though she didn’t let it show. She had been counting on using his want to go home as a bargaining chip. Oh well, she thought, it could work both ways.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ she said, ‘If you help us out, then I won’t take you back to 2006.’

‘How do I know that you’re not just taking the mickey out of me?’

‘Well, Sam, you’re just going to have to trust me.’

Sam thought for a moment, warily eyeing them.

‘Okay,’ he finally decided, ‘What do you need?’

‘First of all, I need your help to find someone. I need to find him and protect him.’

_____________________

‘Okay, “help” I understand,’ Lois piped up, ‘but “pelvis”?’

Jack frowned down at the drawing, ‘Are you sure you got this right, Zack?’

‘I’ll double check,’ Zack said, ‘If we look at a photograph of the tooth and looked at it through Angela’s computer,’ he paused to take and email the photo, ‘then we can trace the indent on screen.’

Jack’s frown became a grin, ‘Imaginative. Good thinking. Are you, by any chance, interested in a job?’

Zack flushed under the intensity of Jack’s gaze and his tone of voice.

‘No,’ Hodgins and Brennan said simultaneously, the former protectively and the latter with exasperation.

Brennan glanced over at Hodgins with slight amusement in her eyes. Hodgins averted her eyes and cleared his throat, cheeks coloring slightly. Jack grinned knowingly and sent a wink in Zack’s direction, the young man standing there awkwardly, a confused expression on his face.

‘I got the picture up,’ Angela called from her office. Brennan and Booth led the way, Lois and Ianto following with Zack, Hodgins and Jack taking the rear. Hodgins placed himself between Jack and Zack.

‘Emmy’s talked about you,’ Jack commented.

‘Me?’ Hodgins asked, sounding slightly eager.

‘Both of you,’ Jack said.

‘What did she say?’ Hodgins pressed. Definitely too eager.

Zack made a frustrated little sound in his throat. Jack let out a booming laugh.

‘She was completely right about you.’

By now, they had reached Angela’s office. Jack moved to Ianto’s side and turned his attention to the large machine in the center of the room, and amazing computer and simulator fondly called the Angelator. He let out a low whistle and swiped a hand through the yellow vertical lines currently being projected.

‘I’ve got to send Tosh here,’ he said.

‘Noted, sir,’ Ianto replied with a smile, ‘I’ll make sure you don’t forget that.’

Angela projected an image of the mandible. One tooth was highlighted and grew to a large size. The carved out section was traced in blue. Jack studied it intently for a moment then nodded.

‘It definitely says pelvis and help.’

‘So, what do we do?’ Lois wondered.

‘Follow the directions,’ Jack told her simply, ‘Let’s go look at a pelvis.’

‘Where have I heard that line before?’ Ianto murmured dryly.

_________________

Emmy was sitting on the sofa in Sam’s flat, her wrist strap placed on the coffee table in front of her, face plate pried open revealing convoluted wiring of some kind. Lance was in the other room, tucked into Sam’s empty bed. The time travel, which Emmy had been conditioned to endure, had not agreed with the young psychologist, particularly because it had been so sudden and unexpected.

Emmy was taking note of what needed to be fixed to make the vortex manipulator work again, jotting them down in her native language of Streeka, mostly because she didn’t know the names of the parts in English. She and Lance had given a thorough description of the man they had seen at the crime scene and who’s skeleton was sitting at the Jeffersonian thirty or so years in the future. Sam was tasked with finding out who the man was.

Emmy frowned down at her strap. There was no way to fix it without certain tools, certain tools that could be found at Torchwood. Torchwood back in the future. The only problem was, there was no way of getting said tools from Torchwood in the future, the reason why she had to fix her wrist strap in the first place. While she was contemplating this issue, the door to Sam’s flat opened, letting the detective in.

‘I found your man,’ he announced, pulling out a photograph and handing it to her.

Emmy looked at the photo then nodded. It was him. Sam was looking at her opened wrist strap, brow furrowed.

‘What is that?’

‘Who is he?’ Emmy countered, ignoring Sam’s query.

‘Kareem Mohinder,’ Sam told her, taking note of her avoidance, ‘Indian descent. You’re lucky, I only found him because he’s been a police informant before. Photo on file.’

‘We need to keep an eye on him,’ Emmy said, picking up her vortex manipulator.

‘Why?’

‘Because,’ Emmy replied, looking up at him, ‘We need to make sure he doesn’t die.’

Sam stared back at her.

____________________

Zack was almost ready to throw something in his frustration. He had been over every inch of the pelvis to no avail. He had been over it at least ten times. It certainly didn’t help that Jack Harkness was constantly checking in, occasionally with Booth or Brennan at his side. It also didn’t help that Hodgins was just sitting there watching him work, babysitting him.

Zack barely managed to stop himself from slamming the pelvis down on the metal examination table. He settled for violently snapping off his latex gloves and smacking them down into the trash can.

‘Problem?’ Hodgins asked, raising an eyebrow.

Zack simply nodded, rubbing at his eyes. He had been staring closely at the bone for the past few hours and he had to blink multiple times to clear his vision. He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Hodgins smiled encouragingly down at his younger colleague. Zack smiled back slightly.

‘I’m not sure where else to look,’ Zack admitted, something he didn’t do very often.

‘You’ll figure it out,’ Hodgins assured him, squeezing the younger man’s shoulder reassuringly.

‘I hope so,’ Zack murmured.

__________________

They had been keeping an eye on Kareem Mohinder for close to a week now. “They” meaning mostly Emmy. Lance’s time sickness was particularly stubborn and Sam was at work for longer every day because the case that the time travelers had stumbled onto when they had first arrived was still unsolved.

So far, it seemed that Kareem lived a safe life. He was a clerk at a small petrol station in the center of the city. Nobody else was following him, he didn’t have any discernible enemies, and - thanks to Emmy’s Time Agent training - he had no idea that he was being followed by her.

Emmy and Lance were sitting on the sofa in Sam’s flat talking quietly, the psychologist feeling better than he had in days. Sam was in the shower, getting ready to go into work. The flat door slammed open, followed by the entrance of DCI Gene Hunt.

Gene stared down at Emmy. Emmy stared right back.

‘Tyler!’ Gene shouted.

Sam came out into the room, shirt half unbuttoned and hair still damp.

‘Guv,’ he began.

‘How long have you been keeping our prime suspects in your flat?’ Gene demanded.

‘Prime suspects?’ Lance asked.

Gene and Sam ignored him.

‘Why do you keep insisting that they’re suspects?’ Sam asked, his angry tone revealing that this was an old argument.

‘My gut is telling me,’ Gene started, taking a step closer.

‘Well _my_ gut,’ Sam interrupted, stepping even closer into Gene’s personal space, his face inches away from the taller man’s, ‘is telling me that they aren’t. They’re good people, guv.’

‘Look here, Tyler,’ Gene growled.

‘Oh, please,’ Emmy piped up in exasperation, rolling her eyes and drawing the attention of all three men, ‘You two need to either snog or punch each other already, because the tension in here is killing me.’

Lance tried to hold in a laugh, Sam gaped, Gene spluttered. Emmy’s wrist strap beeped. She and Lance looked at it.

‘I thought it wasn’t working,’ Lance said with a frown.

‘No transport functions, but it can still detect vortex energy,’ Emmy replied, flipping it open.

‘Where is it?’

Emmy checked the coordinates and cocked an eyebrow, ‘The same place we arrived.’

_____________________

Zack was the picture of productivity the next time Jack, Booth and Brennan came into the lab. He was bent over the pelvis, clear work goggles over his eyes making an odd dent in his hair with their strap, his mouth and nose covered with a surgical mask. Hodgins was similarly protected and standing beside his younger colleague. The entomologist was the one holding the pelvis, while the forensic anthropologist was using a small bone drill on one iliac crest. Both men were completely engrossed in their work and didn’t notice the other three come in. Zack turned off the drill and picked up a scraping tool. He started to scrape at the bone around the hole his had made, giving Hodgins a nod to shake out the bone dust.

‘Found it,’ Zack exclaimed, his voice muffled slightly by the mask, ‘Hand me the drill again.’

Using the scraper and the drill, Zack made a small, shallow, square-shaped hole in the iliac crest. He put down both tools and straightened up. Hodgins placed the pelvis on the examination table and followed suit. As he was stretching his back, Zack caught sight of his mentor.

‘Dr Brennan,’ he said, pulling the mask down and the goggles onto the top of his head, ‘You’re just in time.’

He poked a couple of lithe fingers into the hole he had made, pinching at something for a moment, then pulled out a small white square of folded paper. He unfolded it to reveal a single sheet covered in the sort of script as the symbols that were carved in the victim’s molar.

Jack waited for Brennan to swipe her access card and practically leapt up the stairs onto the forensic platform. He took the paper carefully from Zack’s fingers, eyes already flicking back and forth as he read. Jack heard Brennan ask Zack how he found it, but tuned out, concentrating fully on reading the Streeka text written quite obviously in his daughter’s hand.

_Father --_  
I sincerely hope you will have detected the rift spike in DC and flown over. If you haven’t, then Lance and I are in trouble. We were sucked through to 1974 Manchester and found the man who’s bones are carrying this message to you. He was alive when we first saw him.  
My vortex manipulator has lost all traveling capabilities. The tools I need to fix it can be found in Torchwood Archive Box PLT257. I put them there soon after I arrived. When you see that there will be a spike in the alley where the skeleton was found (Seeley will know how to get there), bring the tools to the spot. All going well, Lance and I will be back two weeks after we left.  
I hope you are reading this, father. I know that Zack will be able to find this, but only if you’re there to read the tooth. Send the tools. 

_Much love to you and tad,  
Emmy _

______________

Sam took Emmy and Lance to the alley way where they had arrived, Gene tagging grudgingly along.

‘Should be any moment now,’ Emmy said as they stood around the spot.

‘Don’t know what we’re waiting around here for,’ Gene mumbled, crossing his arms.

Then, it happened. There was a small flash of yellowish light and a muffled thump. When the light disappeared, there was a small, leather-bound package on the ground.

‘No way,’ Emmy whispered, scooping it up, ‘My tools! Lance, I can fix the rift manipulator!’

Lance let out a whoop and hugged her tightly, impulsively placing a kiss on the ex-Time Agent’s lips. he pulled back, embarrassed and blushing slightly. Emmy simply grinned at him.

‘There’s a note,’ Sam said, clearing his throat.

Emmy and Lance broke their embrace, the former taking the note while the latter rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. 

‘It’s written in Streeka,’ she said, ‘My father sent this! How did he know?’

‘Does it say in the note?’

‘No,’ Emmy replied quickly after reading the note.

She didn’t meet any of their eyes and led the way back to Sam’s car. On the entire ride back, she read and reread the note until she almost had it memorized.

_________________

_Emmy,  
You clever girl, getting the message to me. You were right that we would see the rift spike. Writing pelvis and help on the tooth, absolute genius. Couldn’t have done it without that Zack of yours. I’ll admit, finding the note was all him and his little boyfriend. You’re sure they aren’t dating? They were overly protective of each other._

_Anyway, your tad is telling me to hurry up because the spike is about to happen. Everyone sends their love._

_Yours,  
Papa_

_P.S. All this time, you’ve had the ability to fix your wrist strap? If I was in your situation, I would have used those tools right away._

__________________

Emmy was sitting at the kitchen table. It was two in the morning and her eyes were still open. She had at least two tools buried in the circuitry of her vortex manipulator and two more in her hand, poking about and twisting and adjusting.

It was a closed time loop. Her father’s note told her exactly what had happened for him to get a letter from her leading him to send her the tools she needed.

She was almost finished fixing the function that would allow them to travel through space. Tomorrow, Emmy decided as she rubbed her eyes tiredly, she would fix the time circuits - one time use only was all she could do without more advanced tools.

The thing that was bothering her now was how Kareem Mohinder died. They were keeping such a close eye on him. Even if he was killed somehow, there had been no wear on his bones.

Then, she realized what had to happen for things to turn out the way they were. the answer was staring her directly in the face. Rather, it was strapped to her right calf.

__________________

‘I need you to bring Kareem Mohinder to me.’

Sam raised his eyebrows at Emmy, ‘What?’

‘I need you to bring him to me,’ the young woman repeated, Welsh accent thickening, ‘There’s something that needs to be done.’

‘I don’t like the tone of your voice,’ Sam told her.

Emmy met his gaze squarely with an ice-cold glare. Sam had to stop himself from shuddering. There was something....malicious about the look in her eye.

‘Bring Kareem Mohinder to me three streets away from the alley - you know the one - tomorrow night at ten PM, sharp.’

‘What’re you-’

Emmy shut him up with a look, then turned and walked away.

_________________

Sam brought a very confused Kareem Mohinder to the place that Emmy had told him to.

‘Detective Tyler,’ Kareem asked in his Manchester drawl, ‘Why am I here?’

‘Honestly?’ Sam said, ‘No idea. I’m just following orders.’

‘Whose orders?’

‘Mine.’

Both men jumped as Emmy slipped out of the shadows. Kareem looked at her, frightened, eyes wide. Emmy smiled at him softly.

‘I’m not going to hurt you, Mr Mohinder, I promise.’

Her voice was so sweet and kind that Sam almost believed her. In fact, he somehow felt urged to believe her. From the look on his face, Kareem sure did. Emmy pulled Sam slightly to the side, the smile dropping from her face.

‘Thank you, Sam, you’ve done your part. Now, leave, go home, make sure someone knows you’re there, and when you find out that Kareem Mohinder has disappeared, do not investigate.’

‘What are you going to do.’

‘Only what is necessary,’ Emmy told him. Her eyes hardened, glinting dangerously the way they had the previous day, ‘Leave. Now. Plausible deniability.’

Emmy led Kareem down the street, turning into the correct alley way. Sam stood his ground for a moment, thinking. He made a decision, walking quickly in Emmy and Kareem’s footsteps, hiding behind an errant trash can to watch.

‘What are we doing here?’ Kareem asked, looking around curiously.

‘Sometimes, we have to do things we don’t want to do,’ Emmy told him conversationally, ‘Because, you see, there are some things that have to happen. If these things don’t happen, then the universe could tear itself apart. I’m sorry, Kareem Mohinder,’ she continued, drawing a weapon seemingly from nowhere, ‘I wish I didn’t have to do this. The world has seen enough death.’

The man turned. He barely had time to register the image before him when a beam of condensed light hit him square in the chest. He crumbled to the ground like a bag of rocks. There was no noise, no blood. Emmy sighed and tucked the hand-held sonic blaster back into the waist band of her jeans. She crouched down next to Kareem Mohinder’s body, flipping her wrist strap open.

‘Right place?’ she asked the air.

The wrist strap beeped as if in answer. Emmy nodded and clicked the strap closed. She needed both hands to do what needed to be done. Sam watched as the young woman positioned the body on its back, arms at its sides.

‘This is a multi-purpose tool,’ Emmy explained into the silence, pulling a strange object from a strap on her right calf. It looked like a small PDA, ‘I thought I told you to go home, Sam.’

The detective started and emerged from his hiding place, ‘How did-’

‘Your adrenaline,’ she answered his unasked question, ‘It smells like greasy chips and sulfur. A strange combination. Now you’re in this whether you wanted to be or not,’ she continued, still not turning around, ‘So come here.’

Sam did as he was told, stepping to Emmy’s side, ‘Why did you kill him?’

‘To avoid a time paradox and to close a time loop. I had to kill him for his skeleton to appear in Washington DC in the future so that I could get sucked through the rift and come back here to kill him. It’s complicated,’ she added to Sam’s bewildered look, ‘As my father likes to say, wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey.’

‘What?’

‘Never mind. Next step is defabrication.’

‘What’s defabrication?’

Emmy pressed a seemingly random sequence of buttons on the PDA thing’s screen and something slid open in the top. She pointed it at the body and a picture came up on the screen, surrounded by moving red brackets. When the brackets were settled around the body, they turned green and Emmy pressed one final button. Another beam, a different color than the sonic blaster, shot out and hit Kareem’s body. From the place where it hit, clothes began to disappear in a circular pattern.

‘You use that much as a Time Agent?’ Sam asked, carefully averting his eyes.

Emmy grinned lasciviously at him, ‘Never know when there won’t be time to undress properly.’

She returned her attention to the multi-purpose tool and began to press more seemingly random buttons.

‘This is a relatively new feature. Installed while I was in training, in fact.’

Emmy pressed a button. It happened so fast that Sam almost missed it. One second there was a body and the next it was a skeleton. 

‘Use that often?’ the detective asked shakily.

‘More than I’d like,’ Emmy replied. She gave the multi-purpose device to Sam, who held it gingerly, and pulled out her sonic blaster again. She twisted a dial on it’s muzzle until it clicked into place. Next, she crouched down next to the skeleton and pulled the mandible down, revealing the back molars. The sonic blaster now emitted an extremely narrow and rather dim white beam, which Emmy used to a carve a couple of symbols into one molar.

‘One last thing,’ Emmy told her companion.

She tucked the sonic blaster into her waistband and pulled out one final device, which she attached to the multi-purpose tool.

‘This attachment is a miniature version of what my uncle Owen calls and singularity scalpel,’ she told him, ‘My auntie Tosh and I made it. The original singularity scalpel has the ability to remove objects from inside things without harming whatever the object is inside. This one, however,’ she chuckled, ‘This one also has the ability to put things _in_.’

She pulled a folded-up piece of paper from her pocket and placed it on one iliac crest of the pelvis. Once again, Emmy pressed some seemingly random buttons, both on her tool and the attachment. The paper became highlighted on her screen in one color while the pelvis was highlighted in another. There was a whirring sound and the paper disappeared.

‘Now what?’ Sam asked as Emmy put her tools away.

‘Now,’ the young woman replied, standing up straight and checking something on her wrist strap, ‘We wait about, oh, half a minute.’

‘What happens in half a minute?’

Instead of answering, Emmy just crossed her arms and stared down at the skeleton. Thirty seconds later, there was a flash of light and when it faded the skeleton was gone.

‘Rift’s closed,’ Emmy commented in a murmur, ‘Only one way back now.’

________________

Emmy typed in the correct date and coordinates into her vortex manipulator. It had been three days since Kareem Mohinder “disappeared” and she had finally managed to repair the time circuits. They were standing in the middle of Sam’s flat, Emmy and Lance side by side with Sam in front of them.

In the total of two and half weeks that Emmy and Lance had been in 1974, they had been borrowing extra sets of Sam’s clothes (Emmy almost swam in them while the shirts were a little tight around Lance’s middle - Sam was an utter toothpick). Now, they were back in the clothing they had been wearing when they arrived, smelling of laundry soap. Beside Sam, Gene was standing with his arms crossed. He had shown up just as they were making the last preparations and now refused to leave until Sam went with him.

‘He has some sort of obsession with you,’ Emmy had murmured with a suggestive grin when Gene had first made his declaration, ‘Let me help get a ball rolling.’

With that, she had taking Sam’s face in her hands and pressed a long, hard, kiss on the Manchester detective’s lips. Lance could have sworn that he saw her use tongue. Ever since then, Gene had been scowling and standing closer to Sam than might be necessary.

‘It’s been a hell of a time, Emmy,’ Sam told her happily.

Emmy grinned and Lance could smell the cloud of pheromones that surrounded her. Spending so much time around Emmy had caused him to start being able to distinguish between the different kinds of pheromones the ex-Time Agent used, sometimes still unintentionally. These were quite distinctly laced with a good dose of “happy”. Lance slid and arm around her waist and the scent changed slightly from happiness to joy with a pinch of lust thrown in.

‘Ready?’ she asked him.

‘Ready.’

Leaving his left arm around her waist, Emmy guided his right hand to her wrist strap.

‘Feel that there?’ she asked, placing the tip of his finger on one small button.

‘Yeah,’ Lance replied with slight awe. Emmy never let anybody touch her wrist strap.

‘Press that button,’ Emmy told him, ‘And we’ll go home.’

‘You’re daft,’ Gene said bluntly, ‘Full on loony.’

‘If you wanted a kiss, you just had to ask me,’ Emmy smirked.

‘Or me,’ Sam added brazenly.

Gene spluttered something under his breath and Emmy laughed.

‘Alright, you two. Lance, do it!’

Lance pushed the button and they disappeared.


End file.
